By David Crossland in Cologne
Germany may be facing its worst economic downturn since World War II. But so what? The country is seizing on carnival this year to drown its sorrows -- and even to laugh about the financial crisis. "These days, banks are happy to get robbed. It's a sign they've still got cash left!" That's one of the jokes that has been playing well with audiences at carnival shows this season, says Guido Cantz, one of Germany's best-known comedians. And there are many others. After all, for Cantz and his colleagues, carnival is one of the busiest times of the year.
So far, this year has been no different. Fears that Germany's recession -- which many fear could end up being the worst since World War II -- will wreck the party have proven unfounded this year. Millions of Germans have seized on carnival as a welcome chance to forget about the relentless stream of deeply unfunny news about mass layoffs, bankruptcies and corporate bailouts.
"The financial crisis has been a big subject in comedy routines and it's getting laughs," Cantz, 37, told SPIEGEL ONLINE. Not surprisingly, bankers are favorite target. Here's another one from Cantz's repertoire: "I don't trust my bank anymore. I was talking to them about a loan, but I decided not to give them one."
The festival, which precedes the beginning of the pre-Easter fasting period of Lent, brings much of the predominantly Catholic west and south of Germany to a standstill in the six days running up to Ash Wednesday.
So far, everything has been going according to plan. Carnival kicked off on Thursday, "Old Wives' Day," with the traditional orgy of symbolic castration -- women running around cutting off men's ties -- and binge drinking. Revellers dusted off their Friesian cow, pirate or clown costumes to join parties in pubs, city halls and on the streets.
"The carnival shows have been as packed as ever," said Cantz, born and bred in Cologne, which prides itself on being Germany's most fanatical of carnival bastions. The season gives Germans a chance to disprove the prejudice that they lack humor, he believes. "It's not true. We just have a different type of humor."
During carnival, much of this orderly country descends into chaos. Middle-aged women abandon all self-control and dance on bar tables to deafening carnival hits, men in mock 18th century soldiers' uniforms storm town halls and the sight of men dressed as Attila the Hun urinating against shop windows becomes commonplace.
"When the going gets tough, there's even more reason to celebrate carnival," Christoph Kuckelkorn, the organizer of Cologne's Rose Monday parade, told SPIEGEL ONLINE. The financial crisis will feature in a number of parade floats including one in which a banker with a suitcase full of cash walks a tightrope between two skyscrapers, above a safety net made of people. If that sounds a little tame, the procession will also feature an alluring figure of a bikini-clad Chancellor Angela Merkel in a Marylin Monroesque pose to help carnival revellers forget about their troubles.
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http://www.spiegel.de/international/zeitgeist/0,1518,609031,00.html